Harry Potter and the Myling
by Cread
Summary: Harry Potter leads a precarious life filled with danger and adversity. Driven to desperation by a madman, the Boy-Who-Lived pushes back and the world is shaken to its core. Nothing will ever be the same again. Gray and powerful Harry. M for progressively darker themes.


Harry Potter, at the young impressionable age of thirteen, had come to the conclusion that he led a precarious life. Orphaned at the age of one, he was given over to the custody of his Aunt Petunia and her husband Vernon Dursley. His Aunt and cousin were the last remaining blood relatives that he had, though they would rather forget the familial connection. They had spent a decade neglecting and otherwise emotionally abusing Harry in an attempt to forget about his _freakishness_.

It was on his eleventh birthday that Harry finally discovered the reason behind his family's fear. Harry Potter was a wizard. A human being capable of wielding arcane energies to perform unimaginable and fantastic feats. He had been invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was the chance he had always dreamed of. The school term was from September through June, leaving a mere two and a half months out of a year to live with his awful relatives. And what child never dreamed of being a wizard at one time or another?

There was only one catch to this new world. He was famous. Everyone knew his name. Apparently he had survived a lethal curse and defeated a Dark Lord that had been terrorizing the country for years. Voldemort, the Dark Lord, was so frightening that full grown wizards and witches would twitch in fear at the mention of his name. The curse that Harry had survived had never been survived before, giving him the distasteful title 'Boy-Who-Lived' and a lightning shaped scar on his forehead for the world to see. People rarely called him that to his face but he could hear the whispers wherever he went.

Beyond the unpleasant side effect of his fame, Harry had discovered a wonderful new life for himself at Hogwarts. He had made a steadfast friend of Ron Weasley, the youngest son out of seven siblings. The tall freckled boy was his first friend, and his shield in many ways. The rest of their peers expected greatness of the Boy-Who-Lived, believed that he would naturally know of the magical community. None of them understood that he was raised by muggles and had no experience in the magical world. Ron knew different and saw him for who he was, saw beyond the fame, and helped him understand wizarding culture.

His second friend, Hermione Granger, had somehow been caught up in their shenanigans. At first, she had been something of a nuisance. The bushy haired girl was brilliant and always eager to please authority figures. This naturally alienated her from their peers and she was often just a presence in Harry's peripheral. Then there was the troll fiasco on Halloween night. He and Ron had run into the girls' loo to find her in mortal peril. After saving her life, and she in turn saving them from authority, she was seamlessly absorbed into the boys' confidence. Thus the trio was born and they became inseparable.

First year was a busy time for them. Not only were they learning to use their gifts but they also unraveled the mystery of the third floor corridor. Harry became the youngest seeker in a century, winning the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. They all helped Hagrid smuggle Norbert the dragon out of the country. Harry got to see his parents' faces for the first time in the Mirror of Erised. And there was that small confrontation with Quirrelmort at the end of the year, can't forget that; not for a lack of trying though.

After such an eventful first year, Harry had been looking forward to a simple and safe second year at Hogwarts. That went out the window when they flew the Ford Anglia into the whomping willow before the term had even begun. This was followed by a homicidally helpful house elf by the name of Dobby constantly trying to force the raven haired boy to abandon his magical heritage and return to his relatives. Turned out the elf really was trying to help him in the end. The mere memory of the man that murdered his parents had possessed his best mate's little sister and unleashed an ancient serpent that could kill a person by looking into their eyes. Managed to frame him in the process too. Honestly, how much more dangerous could his life get?

Well the third year wasn't shaping up to be any safer if his little talk with the Minister of Magic was anything to judge by. Shortly after running from the Dursley residence, he had been frightened by an enormous dog and nearly run over by a double-decker. Then the leader of magical Britain had been worried enough to track him down at the Leaky Cauldron and gently scold him about running around at night with a murderer on the loose. Minister Fudge had been so relieved to see him safe that he hadn't even received a lecture about blowing up relatives.

Following the impromptu meeting with the Minister, Harry had begun to spend the rest of his holidays at the Leaky Cauldron. Diagon Alley was a wonderful place to shop, but he could only look at the same shops so often. He visited Broomstix and Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour religiously. But other than the initial trip to buy his supplies for his third year and fix his robes, Harry rarely left the pub. There was nothing to do but write letters to Ron and Hermione and read books. Hermione would never see a problem with that, but the Boy-Who-Lived was bored out of his mind.

Two weeks before September first, Hermione wrote Harry that she would be spending the last week in Diagon Alley. Ron reported the same, except that his family would be staying there as well. Hermione may very well have wanted to keep him company for the last week, as he had written her about being bored in a previous letter. But Harry suspected that the Minister had a hand in the arrangements as the Weasleys did not have the income to squander on rooms in the Leaky Cauldron when they had a perfectly serviceable house that was just a floo away. Not to mention they had just come back from a long vacation in Egypt. The pompous politician, or maybe Professor Dumbledore, wanted extra eyes on him. If it meant more time with his friends he wasn't going to complain.

Around the fourth day at the Leaky Cauldron, he had begun a daily ritual of reading a book downstairs at happy hour. The book never mattered, all he wanted was to put his ear to the rumor mill. It was amazing how adults never thought a child would eavesdrop on their conversations. Every evening, Tom's regular customers would come in and he could catch all the gossip that wasn't making it to the daily prophet. Most of the rumors were complete rubbish or irrelevant to Harry entirely. All he honestly cared about was the murderer Sirius Black who was reportedly an avid Voldemort supporter and possible rallying point for the surviving Death Eaters.

On the night before they were to arrive, Harry heard something he did not expect. A couple of regulars had gotten to talking about Black and postulated that the man was out for Harry's blood; that he would seek vengeance for his master's death. He knew he should not have been surprised and was more worried that he hadn't thought of it himself. Of course his life was in danger again. The school year just wouldn't be the same without an attempt on his life. He was beginning to see a pattern.

First year, Ron and Hermione had both almost died as collateral to a madman's plans for resurrection and Harry's own reckless actions. Second year, numerous innocents and Hermione had nearly been killed by a basilisk and the same madman from first year had tried to suck the life force out of his best mate's little sister. Being in close proximity with the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't healthy.

Everyone heard of these 'adventures' and thought the same thing.

"_Did you hear what Potter did this time?"_

"_I hear he killed Professor Quirrell."_

"_Oi, Slytherin's monster was a Basilisk? Who could stand up to that?"_

"_Harry Potter can, apparently. He killed it with a sword!"_

"_There's no way!"_

It was peculiar how Hogwarts students could be right about things that were supposed to be secret and yet get everything wrong at the same time. The only reason Harry was still alive was "sheer dumb luck," as Professor McGonagall would say. That was the only reason his friends were still alive as well. A mysterious protection from his dead mother here, a phoenix tear there and little Harry Potter could be seen as more than human. But his dear friends were in constant danger. There had to be a way to protect them.

He couldn't keep on fooling himself. His grades had always been mediocre at best and the curriculum didn't include any magic that was truly useful in a life or death situation anyways. Expelliarmus could disarm a foe and throw them across a room if you pumped it with enough force, but you had to be dumber than a troll to actually be hit by the spell. The incantation was five syllables long and it could be deflected by a simple shielding charm. Speaking of shields, most people could go their entire life only knowing the basic Protego shield charm. Its weakness was that it was meant to block simple spells like summoning or banishing charms, stunners, disarming spells, and minor hexes. It was ineffective at blocking anything much more serious than that. And those were the only spells Harry could use against another wizard in a fight if he didn't want to resort to a jelly legs jinx or something equally mundane and impotent.

Now he needed power. It wasn't a craving or a mad lust, just the acknowledgment of a need. He valued his friends more than anything else in his life and he would do anything to protect them. It wasn't something he had to contemplate. It was a feeling; a fact. Harry Potter had gone his entire life without friends, Hermione and Ron saved him from that hell. Nothing would take them from him.

They had proven over the past two years that they would follow him into anything. Ron had faced his worst fear by marching into the Forbidden Forest alongside him and looking into the eyes of an Acromantula. Hermione faced her worst fear by disobeying a dozen laws and innumerable school rules to accompany him and Ron on terrifying adventures. They were with him, for better or for worse, and if he was going to be in danger, then so were they. This was unacceptable.

The most obvious solution to keep them out of trouble would be to stay out of trouble himself. As attractive as that idea was it was simply implausible as the trouble usually found him. Which left only one thing for Harry to do. Become powerful enough to protect not only himself, but Ron and Hermione as well. Protecting oneself could be a difficult task for anyone. It was far more daunting for Harry. Voldemort had tried to kill him three times so far and an escaped convict from Azkaban was hunting him. All of his foes were powerful murderers and he had no hope of overcoming them. Each had decades more experience and were considered exceptionally powerful besides.

The Boy-Who-Lived wasn't dumb, he just need to be strong enough to enable an escape if a confrontation ever came... whenever it came. The power he needed would not come overnight, nor through reading all the books in the library at Hogwarts, though that might be a good start. No, the strength he sought would only come through years of experience. Experience that was coming whether he liked it or not. He would need help from his elders in order to not only survive, but to save the lives of others.

Later that night, Harry laid back in bed exhausted. As he closed his eyes, he could see his friends.

_I can't take any more chances._

XxXxX

Ron could not be more content than he was at that moment. It was one of those times where you had nothing to worry about. He sat comfortably in a car surrounded by friends with nothing more to worry about other than the coming school term. There was no homework, no siblings to rile him up, and that git Malfoy had not come by to bother them yet.

Sure, there were a few things that could have been better, of course. Professor Looping, or whatever Hermione said, was sleeping in the corner and made talking a bit awkward and the weather could have been a bit sunnier. But beggars couldn't be choosers as his mum always said.

Now it seemed he was losing his conversation partner. "Harry, did you not listen to any Chudley Cannon games on the wireless?" he asked in exasperation. Harry looked a little abashed when he realized Ron had caught his attention wandering.

This caused the bookworm to pull her nose from the massive tome in her arms. He couldn't even read the title, it was in runes.

"Not everyone is so utterly fascinated with Quidditch, Ronald," she said in that infuriating tone. "Some of us have our priorities straight."

"Oi, my priorities are plenty straight, thank you very much," he responded vehemently. "The term doesn't even start till tomorrow, sorry if I'm trying to enjoy my remaining hours of stressless freedom."

It was always like this between them. The constant nagging from the bushy haired witch was grating at the best of times. She could take offense to some of the silliest comments too. Honestly, Ron didn't know why Harry put up with her. This wasn't fair of course, and Ron readily admitted that Hermione was a steadfast friend. She just got on his nerves at times and made it hard to remember her good qualities.

He had been especially short with her recently. She had bought that _beast_, knowing that it was poor Scabbers' natural enemy. A part kneazle part cat hybrid she'd named Crookshanks. Bloody ugly animal with a bad disposition and worse temper. He didn't know how she could stand the thing, it smelled like his Aunt and was about as cuddly. Poor Scabbers hadn't left his pocket since she'd bought it.

Harry had adopted his usual 'Ron and Hermione are fighting again' face. A combination of amusement and affection that reminded him of his father. He adopted this face whenever the two of them were having a small row. If they fought for too long he would lose that smile, even Harry had limited patience. His best mate rarely ever took a side in his and Hermione's fights, finding them too trivial to even try. If he ever did pick a side, he honestly felt that one of them had wronged the other.

As familiar as the smile was, something was different from last year. The Boy-Who-Lived had changed this summer. It was hard to put his finger on what was different. He hadn't changed much physically, though he did appear to be in better shape than he had been after last summer. A full month of proper nutrition had seen to that. But he hadn't grown much taller, and his hair was just as unruly as ever. No, the change had been in his demeanor and it was very subtle. Something in the way he looked at Ron and Hermione was different now, though Ron could not say what it was.

Just as Hermione was about to retort, the train unexpectedly lurched to a halt.

"Blimey, that about made my heart stop," Ron exclaimed, holding a hand to his chest.

"Why have we stopped?" Hermione asked. "We can't be there yet. We're not due to arrive for another hour."

"Maybe there's something wrong with the train," Harry said, frowning.

Ron leaned over to try and get a view of the engine car through the window. It had started to rain heavily and the window was fogging up a bit from the moisture outside. He could faintly make out some motion on the outside of the train. It looked as though some people were boarding the train.

Harry and Hermione both joined him at the window when he said as much, faces pressed against the glass, trying to see through the fog in vain.

Harry pushed himself away from the window and walked towards that car door.

"I'll go and see if a prefect knows what's going on," he said.

Just as his hand touched the handle, a muffled scream passed through the compartment. Ron couldn't tell if the scream was of terror or surprise, it could have been either. The sound had made Harry hesitate in the doorway for a second before backing away slowly back towards the window.

"Harry?" Hermione asked tentatively.

That was when the cold crept into them. It swept through the room like the softest breeze, touching his very bones without so much as stirring his robes. The cold was so intense his skin prickled and his breath turned to mist. With the cold came fear. A primal fear that told him he stood before a natural predator, gripping his heart and seizing his breath in his throat. He couldn't even see what it was but it had him shaking in his knickers.

A look at his friends told him that they were faring no better. The three of them had instinctively huddled together, shivering. Hermione's eyes were as wide as teacup saucers, roving over the room wildly trying to see everything at once. Harry was doing the worst by far, he had gone startlingly pale and Ron could feel him shaking like a leaf.

Then the door opened revealing a nightmare incarnate. Ron dimly realized that it was a dementor, a warden of Azkaban. A dark creature capable of inflicting its victims with crippling fear and sucking out their soul. It was taller than any man he had ever seen, draped in a black cloth that stirred in a breeze he could not feel. The hood over the creature's head mercifully kept its face in shadow. As it stood before the three of them it breathed deeply, a raspy sound that filled his head and shook his ribs, as if trying to soak in the terror from the room. There was nothing the three of them could do to defend themselves against this thing.

When the dementor moved through the door, Harry collapsed like a puppet with his strings cut. Ron and Hermione both gave startled cries and crouched over their friend as though to protect him and check on him at the same time. He shook lightly, even as he was unconscious, muttering something about screaming. The man that had until that moment been sleeping in the corner of the compartment stood and strode over to the dementor as if it wasn't the most terrifying thing in the world.

What seemed like minutes later, as the man seemed to talk to the dementor, he eventually hit it with a silvery spell and it moved on down the car. The wizard shut the door and turned to face the three of them. The cold and the fear slowly dissipated, leaving them shaky but more in control as well.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed when he was sure of his voice again. It still came out higher pitched than he had hoped.

For once, Hermione didn't make any remarks about his language and hovered worryingly over their friend who was still shaking on the floor. She winced as her hand brushed his forehead.

"He's cold and sweating," she said, voice still quivering. "Dementors are dark creatures that suck happiness from their victims. A common remedy for dementor attacks is chocolate."

Leave it to Hermione to keep a level head in crisis. Ron grabbed a chocolate frog Harry had bought him earlier. As often as he called Hermione a know-it-all, she was invaluable in a pinch. A venerable encyclopedia of information and a stunning library of spells that he would never learn. Sure, most of them were completely useless, but sometimes she would learn something really useful.

Professor What's-his-name had crouched beside them and was studying Harry with a look of concern. His frown pulled at a couple of scars that Ron hadn't noticed earlier. His robes were also showing signs of wear and tear, though they were all patched well. He looked as though he had been sick recently too, or perhaps he was still pale from being so close to the dementor.

"I see you have some knowledge of Dark Creatures," he said in a coarse voice. Sounded as though he was nursing a soar throat too. He studied Harry for a few moments before standing and walking away. "I am going to go speak with the engineer, then I will come back to check on you."

After forcing a bit of chocolate into him, Harry was getting better by the second. He had stopped shaking completely and color was coming back to his cheeks. About a minute of Ron and Hermione fussing over him later and he opened his eyes again.

XxXxX

"_Take Harry upstairs!"_

The man's voice was panicked. There was an explosion, yelling, a flash of green. Someone slammed a door. He could feel someone shivering nearby.

Another explosion, closer this time. Right next to him.

"_Give me the boy, there's no need for you to die."_

He didn't like this voice, it didn't belong to a human. More like the hiss of a snake. It somehow sounded familiar.

"_Harry!"_

It was a woman's voice. He felt like he should know her.

Another green flash.

His eyes popped open and with the sight of the compartment came all of the memories from just before the nightmare. A wave of anger and disgust with himself crashed through his body, launching him up to his feet as he looked around for the creature that had made him feel so vulnerable. No sooner had he stood than he realized that was a mistake. All the blood rushed from his head almost making him collapse again. He barely managed to stumble onto the bench and sit down. Spots crawled across his vision as if alive and he blinked rapidly to try and get rid of them. His body shook like a newborn foal.

As his vision came back into focus he could see his friends' faces. Both looked a bit pale and wide-eyed but seemed to be undamaged. Relief washed over him at the sight. He took a shaky breath to calm himself and closed his eyes for a moment.

"So," he said, voice still a touch unstable. "what just happened?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at one another before turning back to him.

"Some dementors got aboard, as far as we can tell," Ron started. "No idea why, bloody mental. I don't know what would have happened if that guy hadn't sent it away when he did."

"It was terrifying," Hermione said. "I thought I would never be happy again. And then you collapsed and started mumbling. Chocolate will make you feel better, Harry, you should have some more."

Ron passed him a chocolate frog. He could feel the instant relief as he bit into it, warmth spread back into his limbs and his body released tension he hadn't even known he'd been feeling. The trio sat in silence for a few moments, each consuming a bit of chocolate and recovering their nerves.

"What happened, Harry?" Hermione was the first to break the brief silence.

"I had hoped you two would tell me. Who was screaming? Was it you Hermione?" He asked.

"Nobody was screaming, mate," Ron said, slowly. "Only noise I heard was the dementor's breathing."

Harry's brows came together as he frowned. He knew he had heard screaming, the memory seemed distant now, as though it had happened long ago, but he knew it had happened. How had they not heard it? Then another thought occurred to him.

"Was I the only one to collapse?" He asked.

The look they gave him was all the answer he needed. All of the anger and disgust he felt from when he first awoke came back all at once. Oh yes, this was the great _Harry Potter_, vanquisher of Basilisks and survivor of Unforgivable Curses. How could he expect to protect himself, let alone his friends, when he collapsed every time a dark creature walked by? Barely a week ago he had made a promise to himself, to never let his friends come to any harm. Never had he felt this powerless and ashamed of himself.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of," a voice said from the doorway. Professor Lupin walked into their compartment. He made his way over to the bench across from Harry. "dementors are potent creatures and affect everyone differently. They draw upon our worst memories to terrify us. That you were affected so strongly begets strong emotions from your past."

None of this served to placate Harry's current emotional state.

"How did you get rid of it, Sir?" Harry asked.

"I used the Patronus Charm," he answered. "It's the only way to protect yourself from a dementor."

"What was a dementor doing on the train?" Hermione asked.

"The Minister of Magic has placed them around Hogwarts for the school year until the escaped convict Sirius Black has been captured," he answered. "They came onto the train to look for him, though they never should have been allowed near so many children."

"If you don't mind my asking, Sir, what are you doing on the train?" Ron asked. "The only adults that normally ride the train are the engineer and the woman with the trolley."

"I dislike Floo travel and Apparition is even worse," he explained while leaning back into his seat, pulling a bar of chocolate from a pocket in his robes.

The Professor broke the bar into quarters and passed a piece to each of them. Accepting his piece with a thanks, Harry asked, "Could you teach me the spell, Professor?"

The man shook his head. "The spell is extremely difficult, Harry. Well beyond NEWT level. Some wizards and witches are never able to cast it."

He wasn't surprised that the man knew his name, his scar was better than any name tag. Most people would call him Mr. Potter at first though, to avoid sounding overly familiar. He didn't question it in this instance, the man could call him whatever he wanted if he would teach him that spell.

"Could you tell me how it is supposed to work? I could practice on my own time," Harry pleaded. "If you're the Defense professor then maybe I could just demonstrate my progress every few lessons and you could give me a quick tip, just a few minutes after class."

The man measured Harry with a critical eye. "That would be fine, Harry. But you must be patient with yourself and with me, this magic is extremely difficult and it will take you years of practice to see any true progress." He stood from the bench and opened the door once again. Turning back to them before shutting it again, he said, "We can speak of it again after your first Defense lesson this term, I need to go and check on the other students. I look forward to teaching you all."

With that he shut the door, leaving the three of them alone again. Harry realized for the first time that the train had begun moving again. The chocolate was working wonders and it wasn't long before he felt almost completely normal. Professor Lupin mentioning that the dementors were placed around Hogwarts to keep Sirius Black out reminded him of his brief conversation with Mr. Weasley on Platform 9 ¾. Now would be as good a time as any to let them know that he was in danger again.

Despite having the compartment all to themselves, the three of them had sat close together, recent events still weighing on their minds. None of them wanted to be far from each other.

"I need to tell you two something," he began. His friends gave him their undivided attention, still slightly breathless and restless. "I know that you two have heard about Sirius Black and that he was a violent Death Eater." The two of them nodded at this. "A bunch of people believe that he's coming after me. That's why there's dementors posted around Hogwarts. The Minister of Magic was waiting for me when I ran from my relative's house, worried that I might have run into Black. Mr. Weasley has even warned me not to go looking for him, as if I was some sort of trouble maker that makes a habit of chasing down murderers." He chuckled humorlessly at that.

Neither of his friends found it funny though. Ron's eyes had gone wide and his face gone pale again. Hermione's hands were covering her mouth and she had gasped in horror when he said Black might be after him.

"Harry, this is terrible," she said, pulling her hands away from her face. "Sirius Black is extremely dangerous, and he has proved he can get around the guards of Azkaban. Please, Harry, you can't go looking -"

"I'm not looking to chase down a mass murderer this year, Hermione," Harry spat. "I was looking forward to a danger free year just like you two were."

"Harry, that's not what I meant and you know it," she replied, taken aback. "But you have to admit, experience shows us that you end up confronting murderers at the end of the school year."

"I'm not going to go running after every old Death Eater I hear about, Hermione. I promise."

His friends were taking the news about the way he had expected. Hermione with shock and worry. Ron still seemed a bit numb, he'd catch up. He honestly wasn't going to go chasing after Black, he wasn't a fool. The man was over twenty years his senior and had about that many more years experience with magic. Besides, looking for Black would be the exact opposite of looking to keep his friends out of harm's way.

XxXxX

Hermione followed Professor McGonagall with a spring in her step. She had an idea what was about to happen and the thought of it had her giddy and terrified at the same time. Dozens of books she had read over the summer made different claims about time travel and how it was or was not feasible. Many of them had claimed that it was exceedingly dangerous. That she was about to be given a magical device that made time dance to her fiddle spoke of the trust that Professor McGonagall had placed in her.

What she couldn't understand was why Harry was coming along. Though Harry Potter often seemed to be of everyone's concern, perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised.

It wasn't long before they were ushered into the familiar Transfiguration office. As soon as they sat down, Professor McGonagall began without preamble, "I received an owl saying that you took ill on the train, Mr. Potter. Madame Pomfrey is on her way to give you a quick checkup."

Hermione winced at the words "took ill" and saw her friend's face turn red. As though speaking her name were a summons, Madame Pomfrey walked into the office as though it was the hospital wing.

"I'm fine, Professor, I don't need a checku-" he tried.

"It would be you, Mr. Potter. Getting into trouble again as usual, I suppose?" Madame Pomfrey asked, already poking and prodding him, looking for obvious injuries. Hermione had never seen Harry turn that shade of red before.

"It was a dementor, Poppy," Professor McGongall said, a shadow passing over her face.

Madame Pomfrey looked equally displeased as she felt for Harry's forehead. "He's still a bit clammy. He'll need some chocolate, at least."

"I already had some," he said. He brushed the nurse's hand away from his forehead.

Both witches looked at him with a critical eye as though trying to determine if he was telling the truth or not. This made Hermione bristle for the sake of her friend. "He did, Professor. Ron gave him chocolate as soon as the dementor was gone. It's a common remedy for dementor encounters."

"Alright, Mr. Potter, I need to have a few words with Ms. Granger about her schedule. Please wait outside."

Madame Pomfrey was already out the door and Harry almost stood to go but hesitated. "Actually, Professor, I wanted to talk to you about my schedule as well," he said.

Their Transfiguration professor peered at him over her spectacles, studying him. "Was there something you wished to change before the term even starts?" She sounded as though she believed this would be a foolish decision.

Harry seemed to steel himself and rushed on anyways. "I want to switch Divination with Runes."

Hermione couldn't help but stare at Harry, feeling slightly surprised. He had not spoken of switching his schedule to her, and she did not think that he had spoken of it with Ron either. More than that, Harry was not known as the most studious of students. He was not above taking the easy way out, dragged there by Ron more often than not, but still, Runes was not the easy class that Divination was said to be. All the upper years just took Divination to get an easy E and finish their required electives. Only the truly serious students went into the truly difficult electives like Arithmancy and Runes.

Professor McGonagall seemed taken aback for but a moment before a small smile crossed her face. "I'll see what I can do, Mr. Potter. Now, please wait outside while I speak with Ms. Granger."

He glanced over at her curiously for a moment with that face he wore when he was trying to figure something out, but he exited the office all the same. Hermione could feel the butterflies flutter again as she thought of the device she was about to receive.

As the door clicked shut, Professor McGonagall reached into her desk and pulled out a necklace, placing it on the desk before Hermione. "I know we spoke of this extensively with your parents over the summer holiday, but are you sure you are prepared for the ramifications of using this device?" she asked. "You will be between one to two months older than you normally would be by the end of this term. Have you had any second guesses as to whether or not you will be able to keep up with this work load?"

"I'm ready for the work, Professor," she assured. "All the courses should be fascinating. I've been looking forward to the new term all Summer."

"I must reiterate that you keep your possession of the time-turner completely secret. You may tell no one that you have it, not even Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. I cannot stress this enough," she said. Her normally stern countenance somehow became even more strict. She wished she knew how to do that.

"Although I think them both trustworthy, I promise not to tell them, Professor."

It would be difficult to keep the time-turner secret from her friends. Maybe not from Ron, he could be easily distracted. But Harry may very well begin to see a pattern. She would just have to be extra careful this year. Time-turners were powerful government controlled devices and they were kept secret for a reason. The damage they could do in the wrong hands was incalculable.

"Very well. Have you studied the instructions I gave you on its use?" she asked. Hermione nodded in response. "Then it is time we join Mr. Potter outside and head down to the feast. Good luck with all of your classes, Ms. Granger."


End file.
